


drag your cities to the sea

by obfuscatedheart



Series: Three verses [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart
Summary: Will knows he is broken, feels it deep in his bones, thinks he might have always been broken. Never loved anyone in a way that didn’t feel like it barely scratched an itch in his soul. No one could ever quite love him in the way he wanted; all consuming and filling every part of him. No one that he could love in the same way, someone big enough to hold the all-consuming love he has. So he tempers himself as he ages, makes the edges softer, because surely having someone is better than no one?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Three verses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643878
Kudos: 16
Collections: If Music Be The Food Of Love





	drag your cities to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the If Music Be the Food of Love challenge run by [Trashbambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashbambi/pseuds/trashbambi)
> 
> Inspired by Big God by Florence + the Machine
> 
> Check out the playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/15RCQxclY72mi0REvnLm19?si=Wa-jAgEmSKW_sIp_4ArKZg)

Will knows he is broken, feels it deep in his bones, thinks he might have always been broken. Never loved anyone in a way that didn’t feel like it barely scratched an itch in his soul. No one could ever quite love him in the way he wanted; all consuming and filling every part of him. No one that he could love in the same way, someone big enough to hold the all-consuming love he has. So he tempers himself as he ages, makes the edges softer, because surely having someone is better than no one?

Then even that isn’t enough, so he shutters that part of him. Dogs are easier to love, uncomplicated and unconditional. He knows that people look at him strangely, but he is safe alone out in his house in Wolf Trap.

Hannibal is perhaps the only other person where he feels safe too, there is something in the man that calls to something in him. He notices it first in the back of the ambulance. Hannibal is wrist deep in someone’s chest cavity, holding the man’s life between his finger tips. He looks at Will and for the first time Will doesn’t look away. Those amber eyes burn into him, and Will feels seen to the very core of him. He tries to shake the feeling the entire drive home. 

His therapy sessions with Hannibal, or is it conversations, are the highlights of his week. In those sessions it is like Hannibal has been able to draw back the curtain. It twists him up and out every time, he has never thought that he would be discussing God as much as he does with Hannibal. His view on the deity is strange, and sometimes he wonders whether Hannibal is there merely to spite God. In quiet moments Will can admit to himself that the idea is intoxicating. Hedonism is not something he would have considered before but with the richness of Hannibal’s food and company and he thinks he understands it now.

When he kisses Alana he has hope for a moment, that he isn’t broken, but the kiss is sweet and soft and not at all what he wants. And maybe she senses it, that it wasn’t quite right, rebuffs him gently. But the pity in her voice drips over him like oil and it makes his skin crawl. So he does the only logical thing he can think of; drives to see Hannibal. 

It is only when he is stood in the kitchen with Hannibal who is making dinner, his hair softer than Will has ever seen it, that he realises he may have made a mistake. Hannibal on the other hand seems more bemused than anything else. He offers him food and Will wants to crawl into this moment and stay there forever. 

Will can still feel the ringing in his ears when he steps into Hannibal’s office, blood is rushing in his ears. Something in him is sure that the moment he is in the room where he holds his conversations with Hannibal, that he will find horror greeting him. Relief spreads through him like warm honey when he sees Hannibal. He has cuts on his face but the emotion in his eyes matches Will’s own; profound relief. It strikes Will then that Hannibal had thought him dead, and it twists something in Will. A warm fullness permeates him now, and it confuses him. 

Will is losing time. It scares him. He keeps waking up in different places and hours have passed. Doubt begins to cloud his thoughts of Hannibal and he doesn’t know why. It leaves an ashy taste in his mouth when he eats and he wonders if he’s gone too far. He is losing himself along with time.

He is standing in the kitchen where it all began. Abigail is here, he knows she is. 

He is sitting in a plane. 

He is in custody. He doesn’t understand what is happening. His head is splitting at the seams, and he thinks he might be too. Her ear is in his kitchen sink, he remembers throwing it up. Blood under his fingertips, and he begins thinking that maybe she wasn’t in her kitchen. 

He is in the back of a van, he pulls his thumb until he can slip the cuffs off of his wrist. The pain feels more real than anything he knows. The only other thing he knows is that he must see Hannibal. It’s easy, slipping into a mindset where he can attack his guards and flee.

Hannibal tells him, he could have been responsible for the deaths, he is losing time after all. It scares him, he never would have thought that dipping into killers’ heads would turn him into one. He has to know, Hannibal drives him to Hobbs’ kitchen. There is fresh blood. He knows it is Abigail’s. He sees himself then, slashing her throat over the scar her father gave her. It’s almost poetic, that her blood father would try to take her life, but he as a surrogate father is the one to succeed. 

But that isn’t right. He didn’t kill Abigail, he couldn’t.

Realisation feels like drowning. He sees Hannibal clearly now, the monster under his bed and in his head. It breaks something else in him. The gun he has pointed at Hannibal feels heavy in his hand, he knows he should pull the trigger but he can’t bring himself.

Pain explodes in his shoulder and he drops to the floor. Hannibal has his head cocked like he is a dog watching and waiting for his reaction. Jack looks thunderous. He lets himself drown.

***

Will comes to in a hospital bed, he panics and tries to move. Handcuffs are holding him to the bed. A tube is in his throat, and he tries to cough to dislodge it. Then someone is in his field of vision, they pull the tube out. The first breath in burns, and he thinks he might deserve it. He misses Hannibal for a moment and then he remembers and it feels like his heart is breaking.

A doctor enters the room. She explains that he has been suffering from anti-NMDA encephalitis. Encephalitis is a word he recognises, a brain infection. It explains his symptoms, the time loss and hallucinations. He questions the handcuffs and she only shakes her head. He remembers then, he was suspected of killing 4 people. The same people Hannibal had actually been responsible for. Thinking of Hannibal makes him feel dizzy with hurt.

After tests he is picked up by guards, this time they put mittens over his hands to stop him from escaping again. He understands that, but that doesn’t make it any better. He recognises the building when he is outside it. He almost chuckles to himself, looks like Chilton finally has his hands on him.

The cell he is in is small, somehow he resigns himself to his fate. Against all hope he thinks that maybe there will be new evidence that shows he wasn’t responsible. Jack may come to visit and maybe Will can persuade him to look more closely at Hannibal. He should hate Hannibal, he is the worst monster he has ever met, and yet no one has to 

Footsteps ring through the corridor, and he expects it to be Chilton there to gloat and taunt him. The footsteps stop outside his cell and he looks up.

He wasn’t expecting Hannibal, and yet here he is. Will thinks that for the first time that he can truly see Hannibal.

“Hello Will.” The voice shouldn’t make him feel the way it does, and yet Will can’t help it. Why is it even now Hannibal is the one who knows him the best. 

“Hello Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal is watching him with a strange look on his face, if Will were to hazard a guess he looks conflicted and a little uncertain.

***

Beverly’s death hurts the most, seeing her displayed is like seeing his own heart torn apart. He can tell though that Hannibal had killed her with relative mercy. He knows that Hannibal had been fond of Beverly in his own way. It was Will’s fault she was dead, he had sent her to Hannibal, and she had to pay the price. Will is no longer so certain that he will make it out at all, and he is no longer sure if he wants to. Hannibal is like a ghost at his shoulder, even his own thoughts echo of Hannibal in every moment. 

The judge’s murder is the thing that saves him, and he is sure that Hannibal had been bored without him. He does think the tableau Hannibal had created was awe-inspiring, Will hates himself for it, for seeing the beauty in the horror. But that is something Hannibal had always been able to inspire in him, the beauty in the grotesque.

Setting Brown on Hannibal might be a mistake, but he wants to be rid of the voice in his head that sounds like Hannibal. It is easy for Will to manipulate Brown, the man is infatuated with him, follows his every word like a puppy. He pities Brown, he might be a fledgling killer but he doesn’t carry it comfortably like Hannibal does.

Seeing his dogs is like sunshine blows through him, Alana is pitying and Will resents her. She had fallen for Hannibal’s manipulation, he knows that she is sleeping with Hannibal. He sees it in the way that she smirks at him as she wraps herself around him. He wants to rend her limb from limb and he doesn’t know why.

“I’m a good fisherman.” The plan is simple. Hannibal is desperate to see how Will will react. He wants Will to become, talks about potential and becoming. So Will lets him lead him. He tells Jack, and himself, that it is just to lure Hannibal into a trap. Afterall one does catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

It’s easy to fall into that mindset, to let Hannibal steer him. In some moments he hates how easy it is to follow the path of hedonism. To be able to play God over all the little flies that buzz at the edges of his mind. He spends more and more time with Hannibal, until it feels like he and Hannibal are twin suns orbiting each other. He burns through everything that Will thought he knew about himself. 

“I don't want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter, not now that I finally find you interesting.” It is only half a lie, he had always found Hannibal interesting. 

Will is pointing a gun at Clark, he is enraged, Peter is a delicate man too haunted by his own ghosts and injuries to be a killer. The man in front of him is covered in the gore of the horse, it is perhaps Peter’s only way that he can exact even a small amount of revenge. But Will knows that Peter would die in prison, he wants nothing more than to kill Clark for putting Peter in danger. Warm hands slide around his and begin to loosen his grasp. Knowing that it is Hannibal, makes him give up his gun. Then the hand slides to his neck and Hannibal pulls him close, and they are sharing the same air. Will feels almost drunk, it is strikingly intimate. For a moment Will forgets everything, the plan to bring Hannibal to justice, Clark kneeling naked on the floor. It is just Will and Hannibal, _like it should be_ , a small part of Will adds. He can imagine it, Hannibal and him razing the world to the ground, it softens something in him. “With all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar, whisper through the chrysalis, but what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me.” Hannibal whispers into the space between them, and it sounds like a confession.

Killing Randall with his bare hands is exactly what Hannibal wants, but he cannot stop himself. Especially when he sees Hannibal’s face beneath his hands as he punches at every inch of Hannibal he can reach. Like a cat bringing in a mouse he breaks into Hannibal’s house and lays out the corpse on the table. Hannibal bandages his hands and it burns everything in him and he melts a little bit. 

After Hannibal takes choice cuts, some of which he packs for Will to take with him, they arrange Randall for the world to see, finally the beast he so desperately craved to be. It feels like he is being taken apart and put together again. When they are called to the scene, they spend the entire time holding a conversation he knows Jack can’t quite follow. It burns in him for a long time even after he leaves.

Margot is the one that pulls him into bed, she is heat and fire. But a part of him feels as though he is there with Hannibal instead. It only fuels his desire, and confuses him in equal measure. It’s like he can feel Hannibal’s touch burning paths along his skin, her hands aren’t the right size or shape, and for a moment he thinks he can smell Hannibal.

Afterwards when he is watching Margot dress, covering the scars of Mason’s wrath, he knows that his happened because of Hannibal’s manipulation. Will knows that he doesn’t have the right parts for Margot. It was obvious in the way she avoided looking at him too closely, the 4 fingers of whiskey she drank before she kissed him, and the way she scrubbed a little too hard over his beard as though she could shave it off with her thumb. He is after all a means to an end, and Hannibal wanted to see what he would do.

When she says that she is pregnant, Will is not surprised he has no desire for a family. _At least not one that Hannibal didn’t give him_ , Will’s brain adds. She is wringing her hands, pleading for their discretion, he knows it is her revenge against Mason. He wonders how she will hide it from Mason when she begins to show. Hannibal and he promise their secrecy, he wants to offer his support but holds his tongue. He was just a means to an end. 

Handing over the package of meat to Hannibal, he knows that his plan is coming together, the man is looking at him with wonder in his eyes, _hook, line and sinker_. With the help of Jack and team he had been able to create Lounds’ death perfectly. There is nothing for Hannibal to suspect the decepton. 

Eating ortolan is debauchery, and Will cannot keep his eyes from Hannibal, he knows that Hannibal’s eyes are trained on him as he eats the bird. The conversation quickly turns to Freddie’s death, he tells him that he was euphoric when he killed Freddie. And it’s true, in the version of himself that did kill Freddie, he did feel euphoric. 

“Blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance. Just as the source of light is burning.” Will considers Hannibal for long moments, it burns through him. He wonders if he is doing the wrong thing by tricking Hannibal, something is desperate in him to change course, wants to allow the confession hiding in his chest to burst out. 

Mason is a thorn in his side, he is cruel, vicious and impulsive in the way Hannibal never is, Will knows that Mason is building up to something. Something more than ‘playing chicken’ with his sister’s health and fertility. He hates Hannibal, because he is everything that he wants to be. The suggestion drips easily from his tongue.

Bedelia is her usual acrid self when he talks to her, he knows that he is being manipulated. He pities her, thinks her to be weak, but then he supposes she has survived the longest out of all of them. 

Standing in front of Hannibal tied up over the pig pen he can see it so clearly in his mind. Slitting Hannibal’s throat, bathing in his blood as it pours over him, it’s a compelling image.

Hannibal smirks at him like he knows exactly what he is thinking. He doesn’t even flinch when Will lifts the knife and cuts him free. 

When he returns home, his head hurts and he feels groggy, he finds Mason and Hannibal in front of him, Mason has a knife and is cutting chunks of flesh off his face and feeds them to his dogs. He knows it is not the first time they have tasted human flesh, he just wishes it wasn’t raw. Hannibal asks him what to do and Will merely shrugs. The crack of his neck echoes in the room. He knows that Hannibal hasn’t killed the man, instead paralysing him. Will thinks it is the fitting punishment, he has to rely on his hated sister for care. 

Will is losing himself and he suggests to Lecter that he turns himself in, but he knows that they are galloping towards an end. He doesn’t know how he wants to end this.

They are burning pages. It feels illicit and forbidden, it sends a thrill through him. Each page is meticulous notes in Hannibal’s beautiful penmanship. Will knows that Hannibal won’t need them, he has everything stored away in his vast memory palace. Will envies him for this, the ability to keep all the memories saved. There is still so much he is missing.

But he is getting better at crafting his own. The moment he is in right now is being made into a new room, he can see it clearly; paper floating all around him. Hannibal is on the balcony above him, tipping paper out to him. One single sheet floats in front of him. It’s from the notes Hannibal had made after their sessions. On a single sheet is the clock that he remembers drawing for Hannibal. He remembers it as having been fine, but when he looks at it now he can see the same clock he had drawn for Alana when she had suspected a neurological issue. Objectively he knew that Hannibal had let his encephalitis burn through him for a long time, to see what he would do. But seeing the evidence hurts a little. However, he no longer feels the anger he did before. Will thinks he is getting better at this, separating things. 

Then Hannibal says something, “we could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs. Leave a note for Dr. Bloom, never see her or Jack Crawford again. Almost polite,” and Will thinks it is the worst thing he could have said.

Will wants that more than anything, feels the pull in his chest. Can see it in his mind: finishing this last meal, feeding his dogs for the last time (how he would miss them), and leaving the note. Leaving it all behind to go with Hannibal.

He had thought that his dedication to his path would never waver, but that is the issue with a honey trap; it’s sticky. Will wants to run away with Hannibal.

When he finishes the call with Alana, he is grabbing his coat and gun without thinking, only one goal in mind. He is dialling the number as he runs. 

“Hello.” Hannibal’s voice is like balsam for his soul and he decides then, there might still be an option. Hadn’t Hannibal done the same to Hobbs?

“They know.”

Alana is on the floor, he falls to his knees. That had never been part of anything, he curses her. She is not breathing. That is until she breathes deeply, relief floods Will. Blood bubbles at her lips, and he is pulling off his jacket, bundling it to secure her head. He calls an ambulance, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. 

“Abigail?” For a moment he thinks that he is hallucinating again, but he knows it is real. 

“I didn't know what else to do. So I did what he told me.” She is shaking with sobs, and Will wants to reach out and pull her close, no one had ever inspired the need to protect in the way Abigail does. Suddenly he thinks that maybe he and Hannibal could still run away, this time with Abigail by their sides. Maybe he can make this work.

“Where is he?” Will can see the way her face falls.

“Hello Will.” His heart squeezes in his chest. This isn’t right. Hannibal opens his arms and Will can’t help it he steps into the space. He wants the affection so much it hurts him, wants it to shower him until he knows nothing but this. Hannibal is pulling him close.

“You were supposed to leave.” His arms want to wrap around Hannibal.

“We couldn’t leave without you.” For a moment he feels hope.

It hurts. Jesus Christ it hurts. He can hear the gun fall, and then the world tilts as he falls to the floor too. He should have known better. Hands clasped to the gaping wound on his belly, his guts are threatening to spill out. Will almost wants to laugh, a fitting end then. 

He is looking at Hannibal. The man is in pain and it kills Will, that he caused that pain. He looks like a giant vengeful god.

“Time has reversed. The teacup I've shattered has come together. A place has been made once more in the world for Abigail. A place was made for all of us. Together.” He pauses for a moment, he is anguished and Will didn’t think it could hurt worse than this. And yet he doesn’t hate Hannibal. Even now.

“I wanted to surprise you. And you… wanted to surprise me.”

Will can feel the beginnings of shock begin to creep at the edges of his consciousness. 

“I let you in. I let you know me. I let you see me.” Hannibal adds.

“You wanted to be seen.” Will says, his voice is wavering. Didn’t he want the same? To be seen by someone. Someone that would go to places further than he ever thought possible. He wishes he could make Hannibal see how far he had gone. He’d killed people, created tableaus, eaten at his table knowingly and willingly.

“By you. A rare gift I’ve given you. But you didn’t want it.” that hurts almost as much as his wound. That isn’t the truth.

“Didn’t I?”

“You would deny me my life.”

Will wants to make him see, that this is not what he had meant. Hannibal could have left, Will would have been left to pick up the broken pieces of the teacup. But he would have done so.

“Not your life.”

“My freedom, then. You’d take that from me. Confine me to the basement cell. Do you believe you’ve changed me the way I’ve changed you.”

“I already have.” Will has to believe that it is true, Hannibal had not reacted in the way he had thought. And if Hannibal hadn’t changed for him then, once again, Will had poured himself out, he had thought Hannibal was larger than life, enough to hold on to him.

He is fading, but he has to keep conscious, Hannibal was supposed to leave, _and take you with him_ , his brain adds. 

“Fate and circumstance has returned us to the moment the teacup shatters. I forgive you, Will.” That sends relief through him, he wants nothing more than Hannibal’s forgiveness in this moment, wants to bend in supplication to his God.

Hannibal approaches Abigail and Will can see fear in Abigail’s eyes, god he wishes he had known. Hannibal had kept their family safe after all. 

“Will you forgive me?” Hannibal says, there are tears in his voice, and that surprises him. He wants to say there is nothing to forgive and then he realises.

“Don’t…” is torn from his throat. He watches in horror as Hannibal cuts Abigail’s throat, right over the scar her father had left her with. She drops to the floor in front of him and Will gasps a “no.”

Abigail is clutching at her neck, but the blood is pouring out between her fingers, Will almost can’t hear Hannibal over the rushing in his head.

“You can make it all go away. Put your head back. Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream.” 

Will’s eyes are trained on Hannibal’s. He can see the pain there, and it confuses Will. He knows Hannibal isn’t one who feels regret, but in that moment he looks almost regretful. 

Then Hannibal disappears into the darkness of the hallway, he doesn’t want to be left by himself without Hannibal. He had saved Abigail before, saved them both. Will supposes this all part of the process, when you try to catch a vengeful god like Hannibal.

Will drags himself to Abigail, his hand still pressed on his stomach. When he reaches her he takes away his hands and presses them to her neck. He pulls her towards him, lifting her head higher. He needs to stem the blood flow. He no longer cares whether he lives or dies, but after having had Abigail given back to him she cannot die.

Something in him tears and he screams in pain, he drops Abigail and falls to the floor. His face inches from Abigail, she is looking at him. 

Darkness swims at the edge of his vision. 

He sees the stag, it’s dying. Breathing steaming gasps, he wants to reach out and touch it. But he cannot, he has to watch in horror as instead it breathes only one more breath. It is dead.

Blood is beginning to surround him and he wonders if he is sliding down into the sea of blood to drown, like cities being flooded. 

Everything in him stops.


End file.
